He's screaming at zombies. All I want to do is make-out with him for hours. I've tried distracting myself with business books but I can't get past page 1. I spent two hours sitting in the hallway drawing a mandala on my arm with a black sharpie. I could get some work done but I'm sick of emails. I'm lying here staring at the ceiling wishing my boyfriend was hanging out with me - I missed him all day. When he got home he smothered me in kisses. He's wonderful and I miss him when he's playing video games with his brother (even though it's only for a few hours). I'm not clingy, I'm just love his company. After trying all my distraction techniques, trying to convince myself that I'm not feeling bored and lonely, I finally picked up the guitar. Without fail, whenever I start to play I feel peaceful. My problems don't disappear, they just take a step back. When I'm playing guitar, a protective shield glows around me. Instead of eating me alive, my worries turn into songs. Just as Rumpelstiltskin spins straw into gold, my guitar spins troubles into beauty. I'm comforted knowing that if I can write a song about how I feel, maybe someone else out there will hear the song and know they are not alone. My problems become the means by which I can help other people. I've made a commitment to myself that whenever I realize I'm wallowing, wandering aimlessly, or sliding down a slippery crevasse towards depressions, I will play guitar. Magically, the music fills the crevasse and lifts me up out of it. Music fills all the cracks that used to swallow me alive. Through music I can save myself. // Chamonix

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